


Competition

by Yolomybutterfly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 01:15:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yolomybutterfly/pseuds/Yolomybutterfly
Summary: George Weasley turns into an alcoholic after the death of his brother. You had enough of it.





	Competition

   George Weasley has a drinking problem.    
  
   Every night he would come home with a bottle of alcohol in his hand and staggering steps inside his warm home. All while his dear wife, you, watches sleepily on the couch. And no matter how much anger and pity clouds your eyes, they were gone as soon as he whispers your name with a loving smile. He never forgets you. How could he? You're his sun and he's your moon. He would always shine enough for you to shine others.    
  
    Lately not so much....   
  
    After George stumbles into the apartment, he grumbles and plops down in the soft chair by the door. The bottle in his hand drops on the hard floor with a slight clutter, the sound making you close your eyes for a second. His head fall into his hands. You really don't like it. You really don't like him swallowing himself inside a hole of despair and self-pity. And you most definitely don't like him when he resorts to drinking whenever he wants to forget everything.   
  
   Seeing his figure, you get up from your own comfort, walking over to him before you kneel down in front of him. Your nose scrunches in distaste when the smell of alcohol hits you.  With a hard bite on your bottom lip, you sigh. Then you place a hand on his knee and give him a sad smile," Come on, George. Let's get you to bed."    
  
    You hear him give a sound of affirmation and  you help him get up as you both walk over to the empty bed. Getting into the covers, George lays an arm under you and you snuggle into his side. Ignoring the stench of the liquor,  you both fell asleep.    
____________  
     "Okay," ripped away from the paperwork, George flinches as an unexpected bag drops down in front of him. It was the only loud thing that he acquired in this quiet shop. Not of lot of sound or noise have filtered through for months actually, the only things that ever made any noise are his papers and the ringing from the door being opened from you. That's how he knows you finally come back from work.   
  
     His big eyes looks up and stares at the person who sat in the seat across from him. He gave a small smile towards you before he went back to his paperwork. With an inwardly sigh, you take out the items out of the bag and line them up on the table. You could see George fitting his eyes every few seconds in the corner of yours. You know he’s interested.    
  
    After you were done, your gaze fits on the paperwork in front of him. With a smirk, one that hasn't ever appeared on your face in ages, you grab the paperwork and move them to a place where it wasn't visible to both of you. As soon as George processed what happened, his eyebrows furrows, the look he sends you is a cross between curiosity and irritation.    
  
    " Why would you do that (Y/N)? I've got to these papers done by tomorrow. They're going to inspect this place. " George gets up to find the paperwork before you stand in front of him.    
  
    "No. Not right now, George Weasley. Sit back down." You see him hesitate, but he sits back in his seat. With a nod, you also sit back down in your seat and cross your arms on the table. You take this time to properly look at him. And it makes you almost cry.    
  
    Bags lines his eyes and sunken cheeks. His jawline is more prominent and nose skinner than ever. And his eyes, oh his eyes. Those big brown eyes who could melt the coldest of hearts and that twinkles when an idea makes way into his mind. They're now empty. So empty that it makes you want to grab the stars in the very night sky to replace the ones that appeared in his eyes before. His hair dull in color and his skin paler in comparison to months before. Months before the war happened.   
  
    Under your scrutiny, he shifts ever so slightly, " What? Ogling at my good looks?"    
  
    His joke makes a tiny, melancholy smile appear on you face. But its faint. It's faint.    
  
    " What looks? You look like an orangutan as always." That comment erupts a tiny chuckle from the man in front of you. It makes your heart warm. It gives you hope. It gives you hope that you can still fix this.    
  
    " Honestly, (Y/N). What are you doing?" His eyes trails over the alcohol bottles and the tiny shot glasses." Are we having guests over? "    
  
    You shake your head. " We're having a competition. Winner is whoever drinks the most. If I win, you have to stop drinking forever. If you win, well….it doesn’t matter at this point what you do.”   
  
    George’s face turns into a one of absolute confusion. Why were you doing this? “ But you don’t drink, darling. “    
  
    A tiny shot of surprise went over your face, not because of his statement, it was because of the term of endearment he used. He hasn’t called you anything but your name in a while, in a long while. But you set aside the shock and blew air into your cheeks, a determined look crosses over instead. “ So?”   
  
    “But-“   
  
     “ Questions later. We’re doing this now.” You open a bottle of rum and poured it in one of the shot glasses. With slight fear, you almost back down. You really do not drink. But with one glance at George’s worrying face, all the fear is gone and down the burning liquid in your throat. Instantly, your head swims and a grimace replaces the determination that was there before. “ One.”    
  
     “ Darling, you should stop. A person that doesn’t drink and suddenly downs a shot can get really bad. Give it to me.” George makes way to grab the shot glass out of your hand, but you were faster. You pull it out of his reach.    
  
     With a slight groan, you pour another glass. Then you utter the words that makes his heart stop. “ If you drink, I drink. ......You’re not alone, George…..Two.”    
  
     Shock registers his face, you are doing this because of him. You are doing this because you got sick and tired of seeing his bloody body lean against the door with one bottle after another. And right now, he does not like this. He does not like the fact your drinking forcefully to win a stupid competition that he could win easily. He looks at your figure and finally realize how much you have endured. Tiredness screams throughout your face and your chapped lips bleeding from dehydration. Loose hair frames your face all over from the bun on top of your head. A light blush covers your cheeks from the alcohol and despair radiates your eyes. What happened to his sun?    
  
     He happened. After his brother, his twin, the one of two people that completes his life, died, George felt like he was dying. So much anguish and abandonment and devastation adorned his life until it left him just an empty, vulnerable, depressed shell. In his eyes, in his heart, he thought he was the only one suffering. Seeing you now, close to drunk, he thought wrong. He wants to kick himself over and over again once he realizes that it isn’t all about him. So many people were suffering and they moved on, while he’s set on wallowing in his own sorrow. He isn’t the only one suffering. He isn’t the only one suffering, damn it! The woman in front of him, the dear woman that has his whole heart and his whole life is not much better than him. She too lost a friend. She too lost a brother. Not just him.   
  
    A plethora of emotions falls over him the longer he looks at you. You are already three shots in when you couldn’t even pour another one. He almost laughs when you miss the glass a couple times before you give up and set the beer on the table. You sure are stubborn. Stubborn enough to not let him get to the bottom. Stubborn enough to not let him drown himself.   
  
    Hearing sniffles, you look up from yours slightly hazy vision. When your eyes focuses on the figure in front of you, your vision clears up immediately. George Weasley is crying. Your dear husband is crying. With alarm, you get up in a hurry and rush over to pull him into a hug. With his head on your stomach, he wounds his arms around your body. Heavy sobs overtakes him. It makes you tear up as well. Soon, you and him are creating puddles of tears on the floor.    
  
     “(Y/N), I-I’m so sorry! I’m so bloody sorry! (Y/N), I’m so bloody sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you on your own!” George blubbers on and on which makes you almost want to shut him up, but you are so damn happy. So damn grateful that he’s back. Your George is back.    
  
     George releases himself from your stomach and looks at you. His heart drops when he sees your tears but what made it go up is your eyes, they are twinkling. They have so much hope and so much happiness and so much love- so much love that makes him want to restart his whole life again. He stands up and runs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping your tears. You grab his wrists as he does this. You miss him so much. Suddenly and slowly, George leans his head and kisses your temple ever so gently with salty tears running from his eyes and onto your hair. Your breath hitches.    
He let go from your head and instead rests his own on top of yours, his arms rising to cradle the back of your head and neck. You wound your own arms across his torso. From this moment, you both know that everything will get better.    
  
     “ I would’ve won in the competition,” George mutters in your hair. A small chuckle slips from your lips and a small groan escapes from his when you hit his side softly.    



End file.
